I'm Not Good with Flowers ((AmericaXReader))
by MaximosBlack
Summary: An aspiring actor, (Name) runs to New York in attempts of making it big. Alfred, her dear friends from home, surprises her at her door step, all while remembering why exactly he always comes back to her. ((From my DA ObeytheMochi))


His grandmother was crazy. She would tell him that she came from Wales in 1917 when she was only 13 with her parents, brother, grandfather and their dog. They all knew it was a story of hers, and they would laugh, but sometimes it would feel as if they were humiliating her behind her back with the chuckles.

Alfred would pay little attention to it, but instead invest his time in something else; love.

"Alfred" His grandmother called out to him from her bedside. The room was gray. The kind of gray that would suffocate. The kind that was hard on the eyes.

He came back in, his tote bag in his hand while he knelt down, resting his elbows on the bed while he took her hands into his. "Yes ma'am?"

"I have your picture." She released her hand from his, holding his other while she reached over to the nightstand, slowly. She grabbed the black and white photo of Alfred; his grin toothy while there was a gap between the two front teeth while he smiled. She showed him, giving him a gummy smile. "I don't want to forget what you look like."

He chuckled slightly. "Oh, I won't be gone forever!" He ensured, but she rolled her glossy blue eyes.

"Have a safe trip to there." She kissed his cheek. "I love you, Alfred."

"I love you too, Grandma."

And with that, he finally departed from his family and began his trip. He didn't tell her he was going to make an appearance, but he assumed it would be fine considering she was a relatively easy going type of girl.

In his car he opened the map. New York City was somewhere he's never been. What would (Name) want to do there, he thought. But he always knew why she wanted to go there. She had a passion for acting, for pretending. And in some cases, not being her.

He remembers how they both grew up as neighbors for the longest time. Their houses were so close together, Alfred would open his bathroom window and she would open her bedroom window and they would chat. They didn't need to call each other.

Those were Alfred's favorite times. But then her mother got remarried and they left the grim area of Baltimore and venture further out of the city. He was left in a sad little house with another sad house beside his with no one to occupy the space. He would sometimes open his window and look toward her bedroom window, falling back into the memories of her peeking her head out of the window, laughing and smiling.

But then school started back up in the city and they fell back into touch.

 _"_ _Mr. Henry won't let me come back near there."_ She told Alfred.

 _"_ _Oh, well okay."_ He said with sadness in his voice. _"_ _I'll ride my bike to you."_

Alfred came up to quick stop to get more gasoline in his car. He had bought his car with the money he saved up from working at this corner store. It was owned by Mr. Washington, who would work with Alfred and even slip him some more cash.

"Could I get five dollar's worth on the pump?" He asked, setting down his money on the counter. An elderly man looked up at him, one of his eyes blue a foggy while the other was a deep, rich brown. His skin was dark and worn looking, but his smile indicating a soul was still inside. Alfred took another look at the man. " , is that you?"

He laughed. "Ey, I don't know anymore, boy." He said, pushing the money back to him. "It's on me, c'mon, I'll pump the gas. James, watch the counter." He told his grandson. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing important, sir." He said, opening the door for them. "I'm heading to New York City."

"What?" He yipped, picking his head up. "What you going there for?"

"I like someone." Alfred began giddy.

"Go in there and grab her some flowers, boy."

"Yes sir."

Alfred listened, running back into the store to grab a half a dozen roses, looking at the little cardboard piece that hung from the thin paper around it. He took a pen off the counter and wrote his name across it.

He came back out, seeing Mr. Washington finishing up. "There you go. You be careful goin' up there. People are crazy these days. You never know what's gonna happen." He pointed his index finger toward him.

"Oh, I will be." He laughed. "Goodbye, Mr. Washington. Alfred got in the car and started his way to New York City once more.

Alfred would ride his bike to the nice part of the city every night at six o'clock and be there by six thirty. She would wait for him on the porch, her dress overlapping the chair while she would rock in it, watching as people would go by, each time, secretly wishing it was her dorky blonde companion.

And when he would come, she would welcome him with a deep, warming hug. Alfred believed that it didn't matter how cold it could ever be, once she would wrap her (Pale/Tan/Dark) arms around him, he would be warm.

And each time, she would say _"_ _You came for me."_

 _"Of course I did."_

Alfred didn't know too much about flowers, but to him, it looked as if they were starting to go dry. He pulled over somewhere in Pennsylvania to grab a cup of water.

He walked in the diner, seeing a few over-sized men at the counter, eating their food and chatting away their sorrows.

"Can I get a little cup of water to go?" He asked.

"You need to order something before I can." The waitress replied.

So he did. He ran back to his car, grabbed the flowers and came back. He sat at the counter, ordered a cheeseburger with a Coca-cola, and began the wait.

The over-sized men were discussing their wives, and how much they had missed their families. The time they spent apart from each other had caused many complications within their households and resulted in many hardships between their relationships.

Alfred knew that was true since that was what (Name)'s father did. He was a truck driver, and her mother hated every second of it. Her mother wasn't satisfied with him being away for long period's of time since she wasn't getting the attention she craved.

That's how Henry came into (Name)'s life and Alfred hated it.

"Boy, what do you do for a livin'?" One of the men asked Alfred.

He looked toward them, ketchup and mayonnaise smeared all over his white skinned face. "Me?" He replied, swallowing his bite of food.

"Yeah you."

"I work on a fishing boat on the Chesapeake Bay."

"Really? So you the one catching crabs and shrimp and oysters?"

Alfred nodded his head.

"Ya know, when I lived in Virginia, my Mama made the best cream of crab soup. She would, God rest her soul, bring it to church on Sunday dinner and everyone would eat it! There'd be no left over's and I'd be all upset because there wasn't." One of the men said, everyone laughing.

"Back in Maine, my sister's husband catches lobster and makes the best lobster rolls. It's all buttery and fresh. My son and his wife love it!" Another said.

And with more exchanges of words, Alfred had left, leaving all the men in fits of laughter and the sweetness of reminiscing.

He was almost there.

Alfred turned the radio on, listening to the music that would play and occasionally would sing along.

"This just in…." A man on the radio interrupted, Alfred turning the knob up to listen. "... A young girl, beaten and bruised, was found by the river…. She is a live and expected to live….. but may be unable to walk again…"

Alfred quickly turned the knob down since it angered him to hear such things.

He remembered riding his bike up to (Name)'s. It was unusually cold weather for September, and he was wrapped in his thick jacket that would drape down and sometimes get caught in the tire. He rode with caution that night so he would fall off his old bike and into the rode.

But what if it wasn't cold and he didn't deem it necessary to wear the jacket? What if he had gotten there five minutes earlier? What if she had came over that night? Would any of that happened?

When he approached the house, he saw that she wasn't waiting for him. He wasn't sure if it was just too cold for her or if she had more homework than anticipated, but he still was concerned about the situation.

He knocked on the door. Nothing. He knocked louder, longer. Nothing. He then noticed it was unlocked, and he pushed it open. "(Name)?" He called out.

He then heard her screaming and yelling while hard hits now entered into his ears. He rushed up the stairs and followed the sounds until he found her.

He found her being beaten by Henry. Alfred pushed her away so Henry was now cornered and he began punching, hitting and slapping him.

But that didn't matter. Alfred didn't ask why or what, he just tried to protect her.

Alfred was now in New York City. He saw many things and many strange people within just fifteen minutes of being there. Baltimore was big and strange but not as strange as this place, he thought.

He continued his way to (Name), trying to find her small apartment she writes from and writes about often. Last month, she wrote about how the water had stopped working for the whole building and how she couldn't shower for three days! She told Alfred that she cried. He laughed but didn't doubt that she did.

It was eight thirty at night now and he had left the morning before at nine. All the stops he had to make made him late, but he didn't mind, as long as he got to see her.

He pulled up to the parking lot of her apartment complex. He knew it was hers since there was three large trucks outside of the building. One was blue and the other was green while the third one always varies in color. She writes about how it sits there for days and days, and the two never change to her knowledge.

(Name)'s room number was twelve and was in the third floor. He remembers this because when she played softball in school she was number twelve and she had made the connection. And the third floor was just something he remembered because it's hard to forget what she says.

He ran up the steps, the flowers in his hand, they dried up and withering but he didn't notice.

Once he ran up to the door, he knocked on it. His hands were shaky and pale, his breathing became deeper and slower.

And when she opened the door, she said "Hello?" while doing so.

Once the door was opened all the way, he saw her. She was in her evening rope, it white in color while her (HairColor) hair was tangled in a bun, and her face was pure. "A-Alfred…?"

He smiled, looking down at the floor while pushing the flowers out toward her. "I'm not good with flowers, but I thought you'd like these."

"Why did you come?" She asked, taking the flowers.

Alfred's mind went blank. Why did he come? He loved her, but would he really do this to anyone else despite the amount of love he had for that person?

For once, he couldn't remember and kept his mouth shut.

She looked down at the flowers while a small smirk spread across her face.

"What? Alfred chuckled, seeing her.

"You came for me." She replied, looking back up at him.

"Of course I did."


End file.
